


A Little Elf Told Me You Weren't Alone

by CityofAangels



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Advent Calendar, Basically it's just fluffy and cute, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Cute, Dog - Freeform, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Love, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 02:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CityofAangels/pseuds/CityofAangels
Summary: December is Tony's least favorite time of the year. For him, December means loneliness, and sadness.The Avengers are there to remind him that things can change, though.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> I knoooow I am supposed to write the next chapter for Letters to a Soldier. But this idea wouldn't let me go and I had to write it!  
> At first I thought I'd post the whole thing in one go, but it's slowly turning into a monster, so I'll post it in four parts. I'm hoping I can get it finished before Christmas; I'm juggling between writing and studying, though, so I can't totally guarantee it!
> 
> This story is taking place in an alternate universe where everyone is happy and loves Tony (I know, it's hard to imagine). Thus, Wanda doesn't exist. I tried writing her character, but nope, I simply can't.  
> Chronologically, it's taking part after Spiderman:Homecoming (Tony and Peter know each other), but Civil War didn't happen. They talked it out like the adults they are supposed to be.  
> Vision exists, but Jarvis still alive; let's imagine that he could be created without the AI getting ''killed'' in the process, okay?
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
> As usual, this is not beta-ed and English is not my first language, so please let me know if you see mistakes :)

**Friday, the 1 st of December**

 

December. It's December again. It feels like it's _always_ December.

Tony's staring up at the dark ceiling from where he's lying in his big, cold bed. He sighs.

 

''Jarvis? Can you turn the lights on, please?''

 

There's no answer, but the lamp on his nightstand turns on, a soft, dim light. He rubs his eyes and yawns, turning in his bed to reach for the big fantasy book he's been reading these last few days.

December sucks for him. He always remembers the year his parents died, when police officers had to come looking for him at MIT – he thought it was a joke, at first, a bad one for sure, but still… He remembers the dark, sad days, Christmas spent alone curled in a ball in the huge, terrifyingly silent house. No more soft piano songs played by his mom, no more hoarse, loud laughter from his dad. He'd been alone then, a few days after burying his only family, and he's been alone ever since; no matter how many Christmases he's spent with Pepper or Rhodey, or more recently with the Avengers, the cold and long days always seem endless and lonely to him. He always indulges them, because he can see that all of his friends _love_ the Christmas spirit – going overboard with the tree, the lights, the meals, everything. They're basically kids at this time of the year, and Tony just hasn't got it in him to disappoint them. So he smiles, and jokes, and hides the big, empty spot in his heart to keep them happy.

The clock on his nightstand reads that it's two minutes past midnight. Definitely December.

He shivers, buries deeper into the soft sheets. It's going to be a long night.

 

***

 

When he wakes up the following morning – he cautiously avoids taking a look at the date – and stumbles to the kitchen to get some coffee in his system, he needs a few minutes to notice that something's wrong. To his credit, he's thinking hard about what he needs to do to get the last Iron Man armor more magic-proof (he's tired of Loki and his oh-so-stupid pranks, to be honest – being deaged is funny once, but gets old really fast), and not really paying attention to his surroundings.

When he finally does, though, he absolutely cannot miss the huge ass advent calendar on the wall. It's a cute one, he's got to admit: shaped like a penguin in soft colors; he's quite sure there's even a fluffy tail on the back of it. There are twenty-four little pockets on it, different shades of red and green with gold embroidery. The same gold embroidery writes his name in big letters on the hat the penguin's wearing: Tony.

He raises his eyebrows, mug of coffee frozen right in front of his lips, brushing his goatee.

That's… weird.

 

''Cute, right?''

 

He jumps and his coffee spills everywhere, staining his light grey shirt. It's still uncomfortably hot, and he groans, hopping on one foot in a desperate and useless attempt to make it hurt less, until Natasha is suddenly right in front of him, dabbing at the stain with a cold wet cloth.

She's smiling up at him, seemingly unsurprised by his clumsiness, and he has to take a second look at her when he notices she's still wearing pajamas. Usually, she tries to avoid seeming weak, and always wears fitted, trendy clothes. He's seen her wearing sweats exactly once, and that was when she took a bullet after a particularly hard fight – the day after, she was back in a serious-looking V-neck and tight jeans.

 

''So,'' she says, her voice soft. ''December.''

''Yeah?'' he asks more than answers.

''We thought it would be nice for you to have something enjoyable to think about every morning. There's something from each of us.''

 

She straightens up and looks at him for a couple of seconds, eyes concerned. He opens his mouth hesitantly – maybe to crack a stupid joke, maybe to ask a question, he's not really sure – but she takes him by surprise when she kisses his cheek quickly.

 

''We notice, Tony,'' she whispers. ''We always do.''

 

He stares at her back as she leaves the kitchen. The tears in his eyes are probably not there just because she stole his coffee. Probably not.

It takes him a ridiculous amount of time before he finally turns back to the penguin-calendar, looking at it inquisitively. The first pocket is right there, in the top right corner, just behind the penguin's beak, and his curiosity can't resist it much longer.

In the pocket, there's a piece of blue paper, with Natasha's elegant handwriting on it. On one side, it says, simply enough:

_Voucher for one (1) Russian meal with me._

On the other side, Natasha had doodled a small smiley face, complete with a goatee and sunglasses. Under it is written:

_I'll annoy you with my Russian Christmas traditions, so you know you're not alone._

Tony's almost sure that the rest of the team is looking at him in one way or another, but he can't help it. He grins – a shaky grin, but still – and squeezes the penguin's orange feet, wordlessly.

 

***

 

This night, as he's alone in his room after a day spent in his workshop, he asks Jarvis:

 

''Do you know how much time they needed to get this ready, J?''

''They asked me not to tell you, sir,'' the AI answers after a short silence. ''I can however tell you that they've been thinking about it for a few months, now.''

 

A few months. Uh.

 

''They really care about me, don't they?''

 

Jarvis stays conspicuously silent. Tony thinks he knows the answer, though.

 

 

**Saturday, the 2 nd of December**

It's close to one in the afternoon when the doors to his workshop open and Natasha strides in. She's wearing an old, comfortable-looking shirt that Tony's pretty sure belongs to Clint, and holding a mug of hot coffee.

 

''For the one I stole yesterday,'' she explains with a small smile when Tony raises his eyebrows at her.

''Oh. Well, thanks.''

 

He sips his coffee until the silence and the way she's staring at him get too uncomfortable.

 

''What's wrong?''

''We were waiting for you this morning. In the kitchen, I mean. Freddy's waiting for you.''

''Freddy? What, do we have another guest I wasn't aware of?''

''Nope,'' she smiles, ''Freddy's the name of the penguin.''

 

He's still snorting as he follows her out of the workshop, to the elevator.

 

''You know I'm thankful for what you're doing, right?'' he asks softly once they're inside. ''I'm not… I'm not ashamed or anything. It's just I, I didn't really know how to–''

''It's okay, Tony,'' Natasha thankfully stops him, and she puts a hand on his back. ''We get it, really.''

''I'm not doing anything next Monday,'' after signing for Jarvis to stop the elevator for a second, he adds: ''Maybe I could take you up on that voucher?''

 

She hums thoughtfully and nods after a few seconds of reflexion.

 

''Yeah, I think I could make it work. Is it a problem if Clint spends the evening with us? I promised him we'd do something next week.''

''Oh,'' Tony blushes slightly, ''no, I mean, if you've got something planned already, I don't want to… You know what, forget it, we'll do this another night.''

''Nope,'' she says, and bumps his shoulder playfully. ''We're doing this. It's not that big of a sacrifice, you know – we _like_ spending time with you. I'm betting Clint's gonna be ecstatic he'll get to eat something I cooked, too.''

''You sure?''

''I'm sure. Now go,'' she orders, pushing him towards the door, ''don't make Freddy wait more than he already did.''

 

When he steps into the kitchen, the whole team is there, waiting for him: Steve's chatting with Bucky and Sam, eating one of these huge bagels he likes so much; Clint is shoulder-deep into the fridge, looking for something to steal; Bruce and Rhodes are showing some weird high-five thing to Thor, who looks absolutely fascinated. They all look up when Tony comes in, though – Clint after a small _ow_ when his head hits the fridge's door – and smile at him.

 

''Hey, Tones,'' Rhodey greets him with a smile and a clap on his back. ''Finally decided to spend time with fellow humans?''

''I'm not actually here for humans, I'm here for Freddy.''

''Nat, no!'' Bucky whines, and shudders theatrically. ''We said we'd call him Nick, not Freddy.''

 

Tony can't hide his smile at Bucky's happiness: it's nice to see him like this. He's seen him at his worse, eaten by remorse and guilt on what Hydra made him do, so much sleep-deprived that he could barely walk – but still too afraid of the nightmares waiting for him to close his eyes and let go. Bucky, like this, carefree and his eyes twinkling with joy, is something else entirely, and Tony thinks of so many _maybe_ s and possibilities when he looks at him that it's almost painful.

He swallows back everything he'd like to say to him and walks to the calendar. There's a huge box wrapped in bright gift paper on the floor, and he raises an eyebrow, turning to stare at his teammates quizzically. They don't say anything, though, just hold up their hands and encourage him to open the second pocket and see what's inside.

 

The paper is – ironically enough – green this time, and he quickly recognizes Bruce's familiar handwriting. He's more used to seeing it in equations, and it's almost weird to see a sentence written by him. One one side, it says:

_I'll teach the Hulk some Christmas songs, so you know you're not alone._

On the other, simply enough:

_Look down and open me!_

 

He follows the instructions and kneels, holding the box up. It's heavy, and something thunks in it when he shakes it. No one shouts for him to stop, so he guesses there's nothing too valuable and breakable in there.

He's careful in the unwrapping, and he hears Clint mumbling something to Nat about how he takes too much time; when, finally, all the paper is off, he opens the box to discover it's filled with books. Second-hand books by the look of it; it's a small paradise for fantasy and science-fiction lovers, filled with classic and more recent books.

 

''I know you don't really like reading on your tablet,'' Bruce explains from where he's standing. ''So I thought maybe you'd like this. There's some of my favorites, and some I just picked randomly.''

 

Tony is up and hugging Bruce before he really realizes what he's doing. When he does, though, he remembers that Bruce isn't really a huge fan of hugs, and he tries to take a step back. The other scientist doesn't let him go; he draws him back in and hugs him back, tight.

 

***

 

That night, Tony's smiling as he begins to read _Fahrenheit 451._

 

 

**Sunday, the 3 rd of December**

This time, only Steve is waiting for him in the kitchen. He's baking pancakes, and it smells deliciously good. When he sees Tony enter the room, he holds up a finger, asking him to wait, and gets a mug from the shelf. After a few minutes, he gives it to Tony, who smiles when he notices that Steve chose a Captain America mug, and filled it with hot chocolate and whipped cream.

 

''You know, you should be cautious with all the treats. I could get used to it really fast.''

''Not a problem, Tony. I already cook for Sam most of the mornings, I can do it for you, too. C'me on, sit down, I'll get these ready for you.''

 

There are chocolate chips in the pancakes, and it's so unusual for Steve, the healthy food addict, that Tony looks up at him in surprise.

 

''I know those are your favorites,'' Steve explains, rummaging in the fridge to get a fruit salad ready for him – and probably for Sam, judging by the quantity of fruit he takes out. ''So I'm making an exception for once. Tomorrow, I'll be back to plain ones.''

''Well, I'm a lucky man, then. Thank you, Steve.''

 

They eat their breakfast in relative silence, Steve checking the news on his StarkPad and occasionally commenting what he reads – some stupid reflexion from a politician, a cute story about how a dog found his owner after getting lost in the city. It's nice, and comfortable, and it feels like- like family, in a way. Tony can't help but comment, softly, and eyes downcast:

 

''We should do this more often.''

''Yeah?''

''Yeah. It's… it's nice. Thank you.''

 

When he finally looks back up, Steve is grinning at him, news forgotten.

 

''I'd like to do this more often, too. Maybe we could plan something out, what do you think?''

''Yeah, that'd be- that'd be great. I mean, I couldn't really return the favor, because the kitchen and me aren't really big friends, but, yeah. I'd like that.''

''Noted. And, y'know, you're already housing us and everything, I think that we _could_ cook something for you once in a while without you having to return the favor.''

''Oh,'' he blushes, and fiddles with the last bits of his pancakes to avoid looking at Steve. ''Well, ok, I guess. I'm happy to house you, though.''

 

He coughs slightly and gets up, taking his plate to the sink to wash it. To be honest, he needs a few seconds to himself; it's not that the team never says they're grateful for what he does, it's just that it's nice to hear it when they do. To know that they're thankful and not ashamed to say it.

 

''So, Freddy,'' he finally says. ''Am I supposed to open it now, or do we wait for the rest of the team?''

''Nope, no need to wait. You'll understand when you see what's inside today.''

 

Well, okay, then. Tony's not really surprised when he sees that the piece of paper in the third pocket is red, and recognizes Steve's cursive handwriting. He's _slightly_ more surprised when he reads:

 _Today, you get the right to mess with my wardrobe. I know you don't like my shirts_.

''Steve,'' he whispers, and looks up at him with a scandalized expression. ''Do you have _any_ idea what you just signed up for?''

 

Judging by the way the supersoldier grimaces, he _does_ have a rather good idea.

 

''Sam says he wants to come with us, if that's okay with you. I'm not exactly sure if he'll be there as a support or just to laugh at me, but, well. Too late to take it back, right?''

''Oh my _God_ , Steve. We're gonna have so much fun! C'me on, chop, chop, get ready, I want to leave _now_!''

''Now you've done it, I regret it.''

''No, no, no, too late. Get dressed now, or you'll go shopping in your pajamas, I'm warning you!''

 

Steve leaves with dramatic groans and whimpers, but the smile on his face is unmissable. As he gets in the elevator that'll take him to his floor, Tony turns the little piece of paper and reads:

 

_I'll tell anecdotes of Christmases in Brooklyn until Bucky tells me to shut up, so you know you're not alone._

It's going to be a _great_ day.

 

***

 

''Tony, man, just know that I love you.''

''Hey!''

''Calm down, honey, I don't _love_ him love him. But damn, look at you.''

 

Tony's got to admit it: Steve's a sight for sore eyes dressed like this. Even if he tends to be more attracted to dark-haired, one-armed, bulky and grumpy supersoldiers, he wouldn't say no to Steve in a suit. Like, not _ever_.

 

''Sam, please stop ogling your boyfriend. Making out in the fitting room is strictly forbidden. Believe me, I've tried. Steve, come on, turn around for us.''

 

Both of the men whistle as Steve turns and they're faced with his perfect behind in tight –  _tight_  – and dark suit pants.

 

''Yep, let's buy this one. And go home. Like, now.''

''Sam! Stop this, Steve still has to try all of these on,'' Tony protests, indicating a pile of modern clothes still waiting for the supersoldier in the fitting room.

''Uuuugh, but why?'' Sam whines, and takes a big sip of his champagne. ''Look at this booty, Tony, just, _look_.''

 

With a strangled noise, Steve disappears into the fitting room again – not fast enough for them to miss the way he just turned bright red, though. They burst out laughing to Steve's protests.

 

''Okay, okay, we'll stop,'' Tony hiccups, bringing his finger to his lips to make Sam quiet down. ''But try the plaid shirt and light jeans on, now. I'm pretty sure your boyfriend will approve those, too.''

 

Tony was right; as soon as Steve comes back, wearing clothes that, for once, actually make him look his age, Sam gets up to kiss him. The engineer sighs good-naturedly and rolls his eyes, cautiously avoiding to look at them. They're cute, of course they are, but damn, he's been single for a few long months, he does _not_ need to see this.

Of course, Sam can't help but whisper some (probably, if the way Steve blushes again is any indication) naughty things into his boyfriend's ear before he comes back to sit down next to Tony.

 

''Those are great, too,'' Tony says, delicately avoiding to mention the color of Steve's cheeks right now. ''Make your eyes stand out. Try the darker ones on, please.''

 

When Steve disappears back behind the curtain, Sam leans his head to whisper conspiratorially:

 

''Seriously, Tony, thank you for this. Steve looks good in almost anything, but he looks _great_ in these. You've really got great taste.''

''Sam, trust me, I'm enjoying this as much as you are. The whole country will be happy we did something to these awful khakis.''

''Oh, damn right it will be happy. And I will, too.''

 

***

 

A few hours after they finally get back to the Tower, each of them holding two bags in each hand, Tony's about to enter the living room when Jarvis warns him, rather delicately:

 

''I wouldn't go there if I were you, Sir. Your teammates are currently… busy, should I say.''

''Oh, shit,'' Tony says, and giggles as he leaves. ''Tell them I'd better not have to buy a new couch, buddy.''

 

 

**Monday, the 4 th of December**

This has been a shitty, shitty day.

He was woken up at five in the morning by Pepper, who was panicking big time because the board members were being assholes and required for Tony to be there for the next meeting (never mind that he was not the CEO anymore), and calling to beg him to come. A flight to California, where the biggest meetings took place, at six in the morning, had finished up the job of waking him up unpleasantly. And the meeting that had followed had not managed to get his mood back up: as per usual, it had been boring and endless, big talks about things that had already been decided, and small details that nobody really cared about – except for the board members, apparently.

All in all, they'd spent about five hours in the meeting room, with a small break in between, thankfully, and, once Tony was done, he still had to go to the R&D department and show himself to make the employees happy (which he liked, of course he did, but he was _tired) ,_ and then flight for an hour to get back to New York, where Natasha is probably already waiting for him.

 

He lands on the landing pad heavily, with a big _thunk_ , and sighs as the bots take the suit off of him. His back cracks awfully loud as he stretches, and he winces, rubbing it absentmindedly.

 

''Miss Romanov and Mister Barton asked me to tell you that they were waiting for you in their quarters. They mentioned, however, that you can take the time to shower and change if you wish to do so, Sir.''

''Thanks, J. Tell them I'll be down there in half an hour, I'll make it quick.''

 

The warm water of the shower, and the thought of a relaxing evening with two of his friends, and Natasha's delicious cooking, help relax him some, and he feels slightly better when he steps out of the bathroom to grab a pair of old sweatpants. A Black Sabbath shirt later, he's ready to go, and he takes the stairs to the story right behind his, yawning.

Clint's there to greet him at the door, glass of lemonade in his hand, and he gives it to Tony with a smile and a pat on the back.

 

''Hey, Tony. Long day, uh? Come on, sit down, Nat'll join us in a minute, she's, and I quote, in a critical phase of her cooking.''

''Oh yeah?'' Tony huffs with a smile. ''Well, I won't risk her wrath.''

''Wise decision, trust me. You look exhausted,'' he winces.

''Kinda am. I'm getting old, y'know – trips across the country on the same day are taking a toll on me. Plus, board members. They're assholes, always have been, probably always will be.''

''I could make them fear you,'' a voice says from behind him, and he jumps slightly – managing not to spill anything, this time – and turns to see Natasha smiling at him, in her stained apron. ''Show them who's the boss, so they never piss you off again.''

''You know, I _would_ say yes except for the fact that Pepper probably would kill me if I unleashed you on them. Hi, by the way.''

 

She joins them on the couch, sitting almost in Clint's lap, and kisses Tony on the cheek, gently.

 

''Glad to see you could make it. Promise, we'll take care of you so you don't have to get too tired. Look, we even brought Freddy up there so you won't have to travel all the way to the communal floor to see what's waiting for you today.''

 

She nods at the wall in front of them where Freddy is indeed hanging. Again, there's a big box at his feet.

Smiling, Tony gets up with a pained groan.

 

''Can I open it now?''

''Sure, go on. I'm pretty sure you'll like what's in it today.''

 

The piece of paper in the fourth pocket is purple – because of course it is – and Clint's messy handwriting says:

_You need to relax some, Tony. Enjoy these._

On the other side:

_I'll sing Jingle Bells from the vents in your workshop, so you know you're not alone._

 

This box is heavy too and, after slipping the piece of paper safely in his pocket, Tony unwraps it. There's a mix of nice smells as soon as he opens it, and he takes it all in, breathing in deeply. When he rummages in, it's to discover two dozens of bath bombs of all sizes and colors.

 

''Don't even ask how I discovered it, but baths with these do wonders with my back and arms. I didn't even slip in on of those that make your skin all weird and glittery, only nice ones, I promise.''

''That's so great,'' Tony whispers, holding up a green, eucalyptus-smelling bath bomb. ''Thank you very much, Clint, I can't wait to try this. Pretty sure my back will thank you, too.''

 

Unsurprisingly, they spend an awesome time together. Natasha's cooking is delicious as it always is, and both spies take care to meet Tony's needs before he even has time to think about them. They remember weird and funny anecdotes about past fights, avoid the touchy topics, and laugh until all three of them are crying.

When Tony leaves, just before midnight, full of food and arms laden with boxes full of leftovers, he hugs them both for a long time, and thanks them profusely.

Climbing the stairs, he thinks: _It's been a long time since I last felt I had a family._ He thinks: _But they're helping me remember how that feels_.

 

 

 

**Tuesday, the 5 th of December**

Of course, the Avengers alarm rings when Tony, for once, lets himself enjoy a lazy morning. At this point, he's pretty sure Loki has some cameras in the Tower and watches them so he can choose the worst time possible to wreak havoc on the city.

When he steps into the suit, he understands he's not the only one to think that:

 

''Thor, I'm sorry to say that, but your brother is a real pain in the ass.,' Bucky's grumpy voice complains.

''He is adopted!'' Thor booms.

''I was _sleeping_ ,'' Tony moans pitifully. ''And Thor, please stop pretending you still don't understand that you don't need to shout to be heard. You're not fooling anyone.''

''Of course, friend Tony!'' he booms _again_ with a smirk in his voice, and Tony won't lie: he thinks about blasting a small repulsor at him for all of two seconds.

''I was eating! D'ya know how dangerous it is to interrupt the Winter Soldier when he's eating?''

''Very?'' Sam guesses, slightly breathless – Tony'd better not ask.

''Very, _very_ dangerous. Shit, now when I get back, my muffin will be all stale and disgusting. Ugh.''

''Oh no, what a terrible life you have, Bucky,'' Steve deadpans. ''I'll give you some of my breakfast when we get back.''

''Your mushy, fruity things? Nope, thanks.''

 

They reach the corner of the city where Loki's full force into one of his speeches about how the Earth will be his soon enough, and Tony takes a great pleasure at aiming and shooting at him. At some point, they've decided that each of them would get their turn, and even if it's a bit terrifying to think that they have a _planning_ to shoot at Loki, they all love it when it's their turn. The way Loki falls on his back with a loud _thunk_ is really satisfying, and Tony lets Thor take care of it, knowing that he'll restrain him until Shield comes, pretending once more that they can keep him in jail – they can't.

When he turns around to look at what exactly the problem is, he notices cats. Cute ones. Which wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that they transform into weird monsters as soon as they eat something. In New York, a city where people throw food into the trash cans and on the sidewalks every minute, it's… problematic.

 

''For fuck's sake,'' Tony grumbles, landing next to one of the still-nice cats to take him somewhere food-free. ''Who the hell showed him the Gremlins movies?''

''The what now?''

''Oh Bucky, you innocent you. We'll watch it when we get back home. Kitty, kitty, come here!''

 

***

 

''Evil cats. Evil. _Cats_.''

''Yes, we know, Clint,'' Natasha states calmly, wiping the blood from some scratches on her forearm. ''Cats. Evil cats.''

 

All of them – except for Tony and Thor, who stayed with Loki, far away from the cats – have various scratches all over their body.

 

''It looks like you just had a wild orgy, and you didn't want us there,'' Tony smirks.

''Oh, trust me, I'd much rather have a wild orgy than fight with evil cats again. I swear, maybe in our time a cold could kill us, but at least there were no weird magic things.''

''Remember Zemo?'' Steve asks with a raised eyebrow.

''… Ok, you got me. We didn't have _as much_ weird magic things.''

 

Tony snorts, throwing some cold bottles of water to the rest of the team. Even if he couldn't really get hurt by cat claws in his suit, he's still tired; had to fly all over the city to get hold of the last stray cats that managed to escape. At least, now there’s one thing he’s sure of: he doesn’t want a cat anymore. Not right now, at least.

 

‘’Now, I think I promised some Gremlins goodness to Bucky. So get settled, everybody, we’re about to teach the old man why Gizmo’s the best character ever.’’

‘’Wait, wait, you have to open Freddy before that. Or else you’ll just fall asleep on the couch and forget to open it.’’

 

He grumbles but follows the instructions anyway, the eyes of the whole team fixed on him. The paper’s pink today, and Bucky smirks at him when he looks up.

_You get the right to upgrade my arm in the lab. I know that’s one of your dreams, so get your gadgets ready._

That’s already nice enough, but the other side of the paper makes Tony’s heart clench.

_I’ll laugh and smile at your jokes, so you know you’re not alone._

‘’Tomorrow?’’ he asks softly, clearing his throat. ‘’I don’t have anything planned yet.’’

‘’Sure. Don’t you have to get everything ready before we can do this, though? Bucky asks, frowning, as they both follow the others in the living room. He lets himself fall down on the small couch, indicating for Tony to sit down next to him.

‘’Come on, Bucky, you know me. Don’t you think I have _everything_ planned already?’’

‘’Pretty sure you’ve had everything planned from the first day I was here, actually. Just wanted to make sure, y’know.’’

‘’I… can’t say you’re totally wrong. But it _did_ take me two days, not only one.’’

 

Bucky snorts, and holds up his hands when Steve turns to stare at him, wanting silence now that the movie’s on. He looks at Tony from the corner of his eyes and smiles when he sees him yawn.

 

‘’Come here,’’ he asks, tapping his right shoulder. ‘’I won’t say anything if you fall asleep, promise.’’

 

That’s too nice of an offer to resist; Tony settles more comfortably in the couch, and puts his head on Bucky’s shoulder. The supersoldier immediately starts playing with his hair, smoothing them down, and stroking a finger down the little hair on the back of his neck. He shivers and turns his head, nose against Bucky’s skin: he smells like metal and vanilla, a delicious mix that almost makes Tony moan.

He misses the birth of the Gremlins, surprisingly enough.

 

 

**Wednesday, the 6 th of December**

Rhodey’s waiting for him in the kitchen. He has a mug of coffee waiting for him… and a threatening expression on.

 

‘’Wow, okay, what did I do?’’ Bucky asks, taking an involuntarily step back.

 

The other man snorts and gives him the mug full of coffee.

 

‘’Why do you think you’ve done something, hm?’’

‘’You’re looking at me with these eyes. Weird eyes. Steve has the same ones, sometimes.’’

‘’Oh, I’m not really surprised to hear that. It’s called the _your friend has done something stupid_ eyes. Tony knows them well, too.’’

‘’… Sooooo,’’ Bucky drawls. ‘’You didn’t tell me what I’d done.’’

‘’Nothing. For now, at least. But Barnes, listen to me. _I am not stupid_. I see the way you look at Tony; I saw you two being all cuddly yesterday. I’m not going to tell you some shitty thing about how you don’t deserve him, because as I know you, I don’t think that’s true. But what I _am_ going to tell you,’’ and he takes a menacing step forward, right up into Bucky’s personal space, ‘’is that you better avoid hurting him if you can. I know that at some point, you always hurt the other one in a relationship, especially when the other one is Tony. But this man, he deserves the _absolute best_ , Barnes. And I expect you to give him that, and more than that even. Do we agree on this?’’

 

Bucky swallows, his throat tight, and nods.

 

‘’I… can’t promise I won’t make any mistake,’’ he admits, and winces when Rhodey stares at him. ‘’But I _can_ promise that I’ll do my best not to make the same mistake twice, though. I want to give Tony the best, you can trust me on this.’’

 

They look at each other in uncomfortable silence for a couple of seconds, until Rhodey sighs, and claps him on the back.

 

‘’You still have to know that, if I should need to kill you, Pepper will help me hide the body. And we’ll never see you again.’’

 

The supersoldier gapes at him.

 

‘’Now, get down there,’’ Rhodey orders with a smirk. ‘’Don’t make him wait. And take Freddy with you!’’

 

Truth be told, Bucky needs a few seconds before he feels confident enough to join Tony in his workshop.

 

***

 

‘’I brought the gift of a penguin with me!’’ Bucky exclaims as he steps in the workshop, and grins when Tony looks up at him, his hair tousled and cheeks all pink.

‘’Freddy! C’me here, sit down, I’ll open it. I have coffee right there and drinks… somewhere, if you want something. Jarvis, open the file on his arm and give him the tour while I see what’s waiting for me today.’’

 

What’s waiting is an orange piece of paper. After the many years they’ve known each other, Rhodey’s writing is more than familiar, reminiscent of the essays and math exercises he’s proofread for him when they were young and – mostly – innocent.

_We’re going to Vegas on Friday. You better not get us in jail, this time._

He bursts out laughing, remembering the last time they were there together… or, at least, _parts_ of the last time they were there. Not everything is completely clear; there are some fuzzy memories of a monkey, and a swim (naked) in a fountain, that he’d rather completely forget about.

_I’ll ask my Mom to call you and bore you with her stories, so you know you’re not alone._

To be honest, even if Rhodey’s writing makes it sound like a punishment, it’s absolutely not. He _loves_ Rhodey’s mom; has loved her ever since she decided he couldn’t spend Thanksgiving or his birthday alone, and became his adoptive mother, in a way. He doesn’t have as much time with her now as he would like; still flights to her little house whenever he can, though.

 

‘’Everything all right?’’ Bucky asks behind him.

‘’Yeah. There better not be any call for the Avengers on Friday, because you’ll have two members of the team missing, if there is.’’

‘’Vegas, hm? Never been there, or not that I remember of, at least.’’

 

He grimaces, and Tony smiles at him, gently.

 

‘’I’ll take you there someday, if you want. I have a _small_ reputation there, though. Maybe I’m not the best one to be seen with.’’

‘’Come on, Tony, you should know by now that I’d gladly be seen with you everywhere.’’

 

Tony almost laughs, but Bucky’s eyes are far too serious for it to be a joke. He swallows and looks down, then back up; the supersoldier is smiling, fingers beating a rhythm on his knee. He doesn’t look too ashamed nor nervous about what he just said, and Tony simply answers, in a soft tone:

 

‘’I would, too.’’

 

Bucky seems about to add something, opening his mouth then closing it. He shakes his head and says, pointing at the hologram of the file in front of him:

 

‘’That’s pretty cool. Are you sure about the laser finger? Not too Star Wars-y?’’

 

The engineer lightens up, launching into a heated argument about why laser fingers are _always_ a good idea.

Bucky gets out of the workshop with a laser finger. He regrets nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The surprises from the seventh to the twelfth of Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this story doesn't have a lot of success :(  
> Well, I still like writing it, so here's the next chapter!
> 
> Hope you'll like it :)

**Thursday, the 7** ** th ** **of December**

 

‘’Oh hey- hey Mister Stark! What’s up?’’

 

Tony looks up from his tablet to see Peter stumbling in the living room, a big, heavy-looking backpack on his back, and carrying a cumbersome, wrapped box. He’s not even sure that the kid can see where he’s going, the box is so big. He gets up to help him, but Bucky is there quicker than him, taking the box with one hand – the show off – and putting it at Tony’s feet.

 

‘’Hey Peter. Didn’t I tell you about a thousand times that you can call me Tony?’’

 

The kid grins, unashamed, and scratches his neck.

 

‘’Well, yeah. But it’s weird, you’re- you’re like a mentor. I just need to get, like, used to it? I guess?’’

 

From where he sits, Tony can clearly see Bucky snickering behind Peter’s back, and he stares at him, trying to get him to stop silently. It doesn’t really work; in the end, Bucky just leaves the room to laugh in peace, and Tony rolls his eyes.

 

‘’I wasn’t really expecting you here, Peter. Is there something wrong?

‘’Nope, not at all! But the others, they told me about what they were doing for you, so I wanted to do it too. Surprise, right?’’

‘’Yeah, kid, surprise. Is that for me, then?’’ he asks, nodding at the box.

‘’Yeah! That’s from Ned and me. Aunt May helped, too. Oh, and there’s a word from me in the… penguin,’’ he explains, after a surprised look at the calendar, ‘’so you can open that, too.’’

 

Peter’s so excited he’s bouncing where he’s sitting and Tony chuckles, ruffling his hair affectionately. He’s really touched to see the kid here: they’ve had a bit of a rough time right after the events with the Vulture, but they mostly figured it out now. Peter comes to see them and train with them once a week, sometimes twice when he has time and not too much work for school. They call him for some of the fights, when they feel like he could help. Tony’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to not get attached to the kid even if he’d tried – and he didn’t. Peter reminded him of how he was like when he was his age: too smart for his own good, awkward with people, overexcited most of the time. It’s nice, feeling like he can help. He sort of feels like Peter’s unofficial godfather: he’s there for all of the good moments, and some of the bad ones.

Before getting too lost in his thought, he gets up and takes the piece of paper in the seventh pocket. It’s black, with Peter’s messy handwriting in white:

_Open me! I’m sure you’ll like me._

On the other side, it says:

_I’ll send you pictures from the stupid play we have to do at school, so you know you’re not alone._

 

‘’A play, uh?’’ he asks with a smirk, and Bucky comes back in the room at the same moment.

‘’Oh, man, don’t even talk about this thing,’’ Peter groans, hiding his head with his hands. ‘’It’s stupid, and humiliating, and I absolutely _don’t want_ to talk about it.’’

‘’We should come see it, shouldn’t we, Tony?’’ the supersoldier asks, as innocent as can be. ‘’So you can mentor him through this.’’

‘’Barnes, I’m warning you,’’ Tony threatens as Peter shouts an horrified _No!_ , ‘’if you don’t stop, I’m making you sleep outside tonight.’’

‘’But it’s snowing!’’

‘’I do realize this, yes. So, stop.’’

 

Bucky’s sad eyes are almost enough to make him apologize. Almost. He huffs, and avoids looking at him for too long, instead focusing on the box. Peter’s obviously wrapped it himself: there’s probably more than one roll of tape on it, and even some webbing, where he apparently wasn’t patient enough anymore to use tape. It’s cute, though, and touching, and so Tony doesn’t comment on it; only appreciates the fact that Peter’s done something for him.

 

‘’Oh, damn, Peter!’’ he exclaims when the paper falls to reveal a Lego Millenium Falcon. ‘’That’s _awesome_!’’

 

The kid laughs, high and bright, and his eyes are twinkling with joy when Tony turns to hug him.

 

‘’Thank you!’’

‘’I have to say, Mister S- Tony, that even if I’m really happy you are happy, I’d be happier if you wanted to build it now. Like, just saying.’’

‘’Just saying, uh?’’

‘’Yep.’’

‘’Well, then, Mister _Just-Saying_ , let’s go see if there are some snacks waiting for us in the kitchen, and then we’ll show old man there what fun means for us young people!’’

 

He completely ignores Bucky’s indignant protests, focused on his task: find chocolate.

 

***

This evening, right after he drove Peter back home, he enters his bedroom and smiles. On his shelf, there’s a big Millenium Falcon, freshly built. Two books are waiting for him on his nightstand; and he knows that his bathroom still smells like bathbombs.

It’s nice, having something tangible.

 

 

**Friday, the 8** ** th ** **of December**

 

Tony’s up early, so they can leave for Vegas and enjoy the day in the casinos before they leave to hang out at the bars. There’s no one in the kitchen – Rhodey’s still getting ready in his own room – but a Post-It is stuck on his beak says:

_It’s too fuckin’ early for me to be awake, but I give you the right to open today’s gift. Don’t go too crazy in Vegas, we don’t want to go looking for you in jail._

 

‘’Oh, Sam,’’ Tony mutters with a wicked grin, taking a sip of cold orange juice, ‘’that’s not something that I can promise.’’

 

On the seventh pocket, there’s a gift voucher for one of New York’s most recent escape rooms. Tony’s heard all about it: it’s Avengers-themed, the goal is to escape from Doom’s evil headquarters. From what he’s heard, it’s really well-done, hard enough to be challenging even for those that are used to it, and funny on top of that.

 

 _With you_ , Sam’s written on an orange piece of paper, _I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to get out. Don’t disappoint, I’m a sore loser!_

 

That’s not a surprise. They’ve played enough board games together for Tony to know that when Sam is loosing, you don’t wanna be near him. And don’t even think about cheating if he’s there.

 

_I’ll bring you some of my mom’s biscuits, so you know you’re not alone._

 

He smiles, and puts both gift voucher and paper down on the table, knowing that they’ll be waiting when he comes back. For now, he’s got Vegas to conquer.

 

***

 

‘’Tony- Tony, man’’, Rhodey slurs, tipping his glass precariously. ‘’Man. Barnes.’’

‘’Yeah. I know, Baaaaarnes.’’

 

At this point, they’re in one of these stupidly themed bars – this one’s supposed to look like some Middle-Aged castle – and sipping cocktails that taste like orange juice but have a _lot_ more alcohol in them than orange juice, judging by the way they’ve been talking about the world and their love stories and things they _never_ would talk about when sober.

 

‘’I’m warning you, Tones. Warning you. Don’t fuck this one up. He looks like a great guy. So just, jus’… understand that you deserve this and stop doubting for once. ‘Kay.’’

‘’But Rhodey. Did you, didja see this _ass_. Do you really think I deserve this?’’

 

Rhodes is pointing at him menacingly with a (trembling) finger, frowning.

 

‘’I don’t wanna talk about your sex life. Not nearly drunk enough. Don’t think I’ll ever be drunk enough for this.’’

‘’But y’heard a lot about it when we were younger. And, and, _saw_ some of it, even.’’

‘’Yeah, I didn’t forget. I can’t forget your naked white ass in front of me. Never wanna see this again.’’

‘’Not promising anything. Accidents happen, y’know.’’

 

Tony frowns down at his bright pink drink, wondering what exactly is in it – and deciding after a few complicated seconds that he’d really rather not know, actually.

 

‘’Bucky has a great ass, though,’’ he says matter-of-factly. ‘’White, too, but great. Firm. Cute. Bubbly.’’

‘’Stooooop, Tony,’’ Rhodey whines, his head thunking on the wood of the table.

 

He groans desperately for a few seconds, and then sits back up and downs his drink in one go.

 

‘’Let’s go dance,’’ he says. ‘’Maybe that’ll shut you up.’’

 

***

 

Even when dancing, Tony doesn’t shut up.

They’re happy they have AIs in their suits to bring them home. No one can say where they could have ended if they didn’t.

 

**Saturday, the 9** ** th ** **of December**

 

The sun is aggressive today. Or maybe it’s just the fact that Tony’s brain feels like it wants to get out of his head and live a life of his own. Whatever it is, it _hurts_ , and he groans painfully, bringing the covers back up over his head to try and make it hurt less.

 

‘’Oh m’God,’’ he mumbles, mouth feeling pasty and tasting weird. ‘’Jarvis, take note: I’m never doing this again. I’m too old. Too. Old.’’

‘’Noted, sir,’’ Jarvis replies, and Tony’s sure he’s not just imagining the smile in his artificial voice – he won’t comment on it, though, not when the AI was considerate enough to speak more softly. ‘’Please know that all of the Avengers, except for Colonel Rhodes, are waiting for you on the communal floor.’’

‘’Kill me.’’

‘’I don’t think that this is in my programming, sir.’’

 

With a grumbled _fucking sassy is what is in your programming_ , Tony sits up, wincing against the bright light and the pounding in his whole body. He feels terrible, like death warmed over. That’s exactly why he stopped drinking on a regular basis and keeps it for special occasions. And then promptly regrets even keeping it for the special occasions.

The shower helps him some, as does the brushing of his teeth – at least he feels slightly more human now, even if he can’t wait for the painkillers to act.

 

‘’Is Rhodes suffering as much as me?’’

‘’I believe so, Sir. He swore in a remarkable manner when he woke up, and fell asleep again right after drinking some water.’’

‘’We’re really too old for these things, aren’t we? Shit, I can still remember the days where we could spend a whole _weekend_ partying. Now I’m about to follow Bruce’s example and spend all of my evenings drinking tea and meditating.’’

‘’I don’t think that it could actually be hurtful for you.’’

‘’For me, no. For my ego? Don’t even think about it.’’

 

He stumbles out of the room and into the elevator, scratching his forehead. When the doors open on the communal floor, it’s to loud, excited voices, and Tony thinks about just crawling back into bed and ignoring them. But no, that probably would not be really nice.

So he checks that no one’s on his way and goes straight to the kitchen… where Bucky’s waiting for him with a smirk and coffee. He promptly ignores the first and downs the second in two huge sips.

 

‘’You’re my favorite,’’ he moans.

‘’Are you talking to me or to the coffee?’’

‘’Both. But more you, because the coffee didn’t brew itself. So, yeah, you. Thanks.’’

‘’You’re welcome. I felt like it would be useful to you, and I don’t think I was really wrong. Had a good day yesterday?’’

‘’Good day. Great night. Don’t exactly remember _everything_ , but well. At least we came back. Sometimes we don’t, so there’s that.’’

‘’Sometimes you don’t come back?’’ Bucky asks, surprised.

‘’Yeah. We woke up in the middle of a forest, once. Took us some time to figure out where we were and how _exactly_ we came to be there.’’

‘’And?’’

‘’Long story short, it involved squirrels and a fall in the lake.’’

 

The supersoldier snorts and walks closer to him, tucking a strand stray of hair back behind his ear, thumb stroking his cheek softly. It’s so unexpected, and affectionate, that Tony’s completely taken by surprise. He looks up into Bucky’s grey eyes and smiles awkwardly.

 

‘’Tell me if it’s getting too loud or too much for you, okay?’’ Bucky asks, concerned. ‘’I’ll figure out a way to make it less painful.’’

‘’Not the first hangover I have, you know. Survived all of them before.’’

‘’Doesn’t mean you have to suffer through it, though,’’ he shrugs. ‘’By the way, you’re supposed to open Freddy before you join them in the living room?’’

‘’Oh? Well, okay then. I’ll see what’s waiting for me.’’

 

What’s waiting for him is a light blue piece of paper, with Thor’s handwriting – the man writes like he talks, big and enthusiastic.

 _Such beautiful traditions you have!_ It says on one side, and now Tony’s beginning to suspect what’s waiting for him in the other room.

_Chrismas is not known in Asgard – but I’ll teach you about our traditions, so you know you’re not alone._

 

Even if he was expecting it, the _size_ of the Christmas tree in the living room surprises him. The fact that Thor’s carrying it on his shoulder like it’s a bag of dirty clothes surprises him more; so much so that he stops and Bucky doesn’t notice it and can’t stop in time. He hits him on the back and Tony almost looses his balance. Luckily for him, Bucky’s reflexes are perfect, and he catches him with an arm around his waist before he can fall.

 

‘’Thanks,’’ Tony whispers gratefully and then, louder: ‘’Thor, _where_ did you find this monster?’’

‘’In the forest, Tony! I brought it back flying!’’

‘’You… brought it back… flying. Of course. Why not. Are you sure this isn’t too big for the room?’’

‘’It’s the perfect size, Tony,’’ Steve smiles softly, hugging Sam close to him as the tree is put down in a corner of the room. ‘’Look at this, it’s perfect!’’

 

They spend a long time looking at it; Clint’s whispering softly into Nat’s ear, who seems pleased by what she’s hearing. Vision and Thor look like kids, standing in front of the tree with huge, satisfied grins; Bruce looks content in the couch, with a blanket in his lap and a cup of tea between his hands. 

To add to the sweetness of the moment, Bucky sneaks an arm around Tony’s shoulders and draws him in in a side hug.

 

‘’I like seing you smile,’’ he whispers. ‘’Looks nice on you.’’

 

It’s big news to Tony: dirty talk won’t get him to blush. Sweet compliments, though? He turns bright red.

 

 

**Sunday, the 10** ** th ** **of December**

 

Tony wakes up on the couch in the communal floor, and it takes him a couple of minutes to remember why he’s there. And then it comes back to him: Clint had begged to watch the Grinch, and then Natasha wanted to watch Elf, and he fell asleep somewhere in the middle of the second movie. He fell asleep _on_ _Bucky_ , apparently: the supersoldier’s lying next to him, on the edge of the couch, his metal arm an heavy, comforting weight around Tony’s chest. Fuck it, it’s almost Christmas, Tony thinks, and burrows closer to Bucky, breathing in his nice smell. His long dark hair tickle the sensitive skin of his neck, and his warm breath makes him shiver softly.

 

‘’Hey, doll,’’ Bucky’s hoarse, still sleepy voice greets him.

‘’Hey,’’ Tony whispers back, softly. ‘’Did I wake you up?’’

‘’Nah, you didn’t. Been awake for a while, but I didn't want to wake you. Feels too nice.’’

 

He hugs him tighter to emphasize his point, and Tony hums happily, his fingers feeling along the joints of the metal arm.

 

‘’Don’t you think we should get up before the others come here, though?’’

‘’Yeah, probably,’’ Bucky admits, and doesn’t move at all.

 

Tony chuckles, and worms his way between Bucky’s arm to face him. The other man is smiling lazily, and sporting an impressive bedhead, strands of hair going every way and completely defying gravity.

 

‘’Nice hair,’’ he deadpans, making Bucky snort. ‘’You know I actually need you to get up before I can move. Your muscles are taking a lot of room. And there _could_ be a problem with my bladder if you decide to stay here for too long..’’

‘’Okay, okay, I got it, you old man. I’m getting up.’’

‘’You know, technically, _you’re_ the old man!’’ Tony exclaims, making a beeline for the bathroom. ‘’You’re about twice as old as I am.’’

 

When he comes back, Bucky’s sitting on the couch and yawning, his flesh hand trying to make his hair flatten some. He’s not totally successful, far from it actually, but the cuteness of the way he’s wiping at his eyes, still all sleepy, is enough to make Tony forget about laughing at him. He sits down heavily next to him and lets his head fall on his shoulder.

 

‘’You okay?’’

‘’Yeah. More than okay, even. But I’m thinking that we should do something about the Christmas tree,’’ he says, nodding at the huge thing. ‘’It looks slightly naked.’’

‘’You should open Freddy, see what’s waiting for you today,’’ Bucky smiles. ‘’I’m betting that at the end of today, you’ll complain that the tree has too many ornaments on it.’’

‘’Most years, it looks like someone threw up the contents of a Christmas shop in here,’’ he grumbles good-naturedly.

 

Bucky's managed to make him curious, though, so he gets up again with a groan to go to the kitchen, quickly stopping to get some coffee ready. The writing on the dark red piece of paper is so neat it almost looks like it's been printed rather than handwritten.

 _Today_ , Vision writes, _I want to learn all about the Christmas tradition of decorating the tree. Would you help me?_

 

Technically, Tony knows that Vision already knows about the traditions: he's been here more than one year, after all, he's already seen how the others do it. It's nice, though, to know that he cares enough about Tony to want him to show that his opinion matters to him. And the other side of the paper is nice too:

_Tony, you're the one who gave me life. You're not alone._

 

***

 

After a few minutes spent alone with Bucky, the others begin to file in. Each of them is carrying a box; some, like Rhodey or Sam, have big, heavy-looking ones; Steve, Clint and Natasha have smaller ones, but the way they're carrying them is enough to show that they care deeply about what's inside.

 

''Hey, Jarvis?'' Tony asks softly. ''Put some Christmas songs on?''

 

 _Silent Night_ begins, and Bucky hums along, getting up to look at what Steve's got inside his box. Tony already knows: some ornament a museum had, that dates back to when he was spending Christmas with his mom; a few ornaments Peggy gave him along the years; and one golden star that a kid gifted him as he was cleaning the streets after a hard fight.

Clint and Natasha share a box, and there's a lot of melancholy in their eyes as they take the content out. Tony's never asked, know that they'll share the story if they'd like to one day.

The room's mostly silent, in a comforting way, as they decorate the tree, then moving on to the room as a whole.

When they're mostly done, Steve offers the golden star to Tony, silently and with a gentle smile. He takes it and then looks up at Vision, who's standing in a corner of the room, looking intently at what everyone's doing.

 

''Here,'' he says, getting up and walking to Vision. ''I'm supposed to teach you, so teach you I will. C'me on, you've got the most important role, so focus on putting it on straight.''

 

Vision actually needs to hover a few feet in the air so he can reach the top of the tree – which is proof of just how big the thing is, as Vision isn't particularly small. They argue about it for a couple of minutes until they all decide that it's straight and that the tree is perfect as it is.

Candles lit, little Santas smiling in every corner of the room, they all stand and look around them. Bucky's arms sneak around Tony's waist, and he's still humming along to the songs.

It still looks a bit as if someone threw up the contents of a Christmas shop into the living room… But truth be told, Tony thinks it's _perfect_.

 

 

**Monday, the 11th of December**

 

It's about 11AM when Tony emerges from his workshop, looking for Clint. He's got some new, cool arrows for him to try out and can't wait to see what the result is. He's not actually expecting for him to be already waiting for Tony in the living room. The fact that he's bouncing on his feet from excitation is slightly surprising, too.

 

''Open it, open it, open it!'' he singsongs, pointing a finger at Freddy – and completely ignoring the arrows Tony's holding.

''But… I had new arrows for you!'' he pouts.

''Great! But not right now. I mean, thanks a lot and everything, but right now I've got something planned for you. For us. I was already afraid that you wouldn't come up before it was too late, so go, open it!''

 

Knowing that he'd better not try and reason with Clint when he's excited like that, Tony puts the arrows down on the table and follows the archer's orders, opening the eleventh pocket. The purple (of course) paper says:

_Bark, bark! Your afternoon is free. We're leaving now!_

The other side is more serious, and makes Tony's heart clench in his chest:

_You're like a (sometimes annoying) big brother to me. You're not alone, Tony._

 

When he comes back in the living room, Clint's slightly more subdued, and he grins at Tony, squeezing his shoulder wordlessly. Neither of them is really good at the whole _feelings_ thing, so Tony gladly avoids mentioning the fact that what he wrote put tears in his eyes, and instead follows him, more and more confused and curious, to the elevator, down to the garage.

Clint stares longingly at the Ferraris as he passes them, stopping at the black Audi at the end of the garage. 

He absolutely refuses to say anything about where they're going for all of the trip, instead turning the volume up as soon as Tony opens his mouth to ask – after thirty minutes, it's so loud they can't hear each other anymore. Instead of talking, then, they sing – out of tune and awfully loud, but it's fun, even if they _do_ enjoy the fact that the windows are tinted and no one can see two of the Avengers singing along to _Barbie World_ , complete with the gestures and stupid faces.

 

They finally stop after about forty-five minutes, in front of a big building without any specific sign on it. Tony's definitely curious, now.

 

''Still not saying what we're doing here?'' he frowns.

''Nope. I won't say anything. You'll know soon enough.''

''Can you at least promise me that we won't kill anyone in here? Or _get killed_?''

''Oh come on, Stark, I know I can have some weird ideas, but did I ever get any of us killed? No, never.''

''Uh, yeah, but we did come pretty close to dying a few times.''

 

The archer snorts, ignoring Tony the rest of the way to the door. As soon as he opens it, they're greeted by barks – of course. He should have figured it out after reading the paper; he knows Clint well enough by now to know that the man _loves_ dogs.

They're welcomed by a young, friendly woman, that immediately asks them for a picture in front of the main desk, so she can hang it up and show that even the Avengers like this refuge. She shows them the little courtyard where the dogs can run, the two dozens of cages where the dogs are waiting for someone to adopt them, the paths where they take the dogs walking. They each get to choose three dogs to spend time with in the courtyard – the choice is awful, but in the end, they manage it. Tony chooses a small black and white pug, a female brown border collie, and an indefinite mix that looks like it's smiling. Clint apparently fell in love with a beat up labrador missing an ear, a husky that looks like it could rip his arm off, and a tiny, tiny chihuahua who barks louder than all the other dogs.

They spend an _awesome_ time – Tony's always wanted a dog, ever since he was a kid, and he can't stop grinning. The dogs seem like they're enjoying this, too: they're jumping around, chasing each other, and ready to catch anything the men would throw to them.

At some point, they clip their leash on and takes them around the block. Whereas Tony thought the husky would be strong enough to rip Clint's arm right off, it's actually the tiny _chihuahua_ that's fighting to get free and running. Clint even needs to carry him when they meet some other dogs, afraid the the little thing would be tempted to fight a dog ten times his size.

 

Unsurprisingly, the hardest time is when they have to leave and say goodbye to the dogs. The border collie and the labrador begin whining, and Clint looks like his heart is breaking when he pets it one last time, with a sad look behind them when they leave the room.

 

''I want a dog,'' he moans when he's back in the car. ''Pleaaaaase.''

''I want one too,'' Tony mumbles back, wiping at his face. ''Join the club.''

''It's almost Christmas, isn't it?''

''Yeah. Christmas dog?''

''Christmas dog.''

 

**Tuesday, the 12th of December**

 

''Oh my God,'' Tony whispers, staring at the two small soft toys. ''It's so cute! Look at that. _So cute_.''

''Right? It's weird, too! But cute.''

 

That's probably one of the best descriptions for the Tsum Tsum Avengers: weird but cute. Clint had bought his own as soon as it was out – going as fast as joining the line in front of the Disney Store on the day they began selling it. Cap has his own, too, courtesy of a gift from Sam, who apparently found it totally hilarious. Steve had groaned and moaned, but now Tony knows for a fact that he keeps it as a lucky charm in one of the numerous pockets of his uniform.

Now Tony is holding a Tsum Tsum Iron Man and a Winter Soldier one, and it's probably one of the cutest things he's ever seen. They even have tiny legs! And the Winter Soldier is wearing his mask!

 

''Thanks you so much, Bucky. Best gift ever!''

''Really? Well, no pressure for Christmas or your birthday then, great. It's too bad, I already had something planned for you.''

''Yeah? Something I could like?''

''Something I'm pretty sure you'll like, yeah,'' the supersoldier grins wickedly. ''But let's not get ahead of ourselves for now.''

 

He plays around with both soft toys for a few seconds, making them dance and run on Bucky's metal arm. The soldier laughs, watching Tony enjoy himself.

 

''There's a paper in there, too. If you want, I mean.''

 

Bucky's blushing, now, and that's enough to make Tony forget about his two new toys for a second and read what he's written for him.

 _So when I'm not around, you still have a little piece of me with you_ , it says, with a smiley face. It's already cute enough, but the other side takes Tony's breath away.

_You gave me hope and a home when I had nothing left. You're not alone, Tony._

 

''Bucky,'' he whispers, looking up at the other man.

''I realized I never properly thanked you for what you've done. Without you, Tony, I– I really don't know where I would be right now. You had faith in me when I didn't and you trusted me when I couldn't. I wouldn't be who I am today without you, I wouldn't…'' he shakes his head, frustrated that he can't find the right words to express what he was thinking. ''I wouldn't be _me_. You gave me back the possibility to be _me_ again. That's the greatest gift anyone's ever given to me.''

''Oh, Bucky… Come here.''

 

The soldier doesn't need to be told a second time; he burrows into Tony's arms, melting against his skin.

 

''Thank you, Tony.''


End file.
